The changing seasons of life

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Seasonal change reinforces my belief in God. I dearly love the fall of the year. From the end of April to the crisp mornings of fall, it seems I wait. There is a season for all of us. The bomber is to believe life without seasons.

Now, this is going to be a hard thing to grasp for most of the readers of this column: your season has yet to arrive. Or, perhaps, you are just entering the most significant season of your life. To believe otherwise for most would be to live a very dreary and disheartening life.

But that’s exactly what most of us are doing. We live believing our season of abundance and fruitfulness and contribution has already passed and the best we can do is to hold onto the vestiges of leftovers.

Age argues the point. If by 40 or 50 you have not hit your prime, made your million, gathered your empire, or made a name for yourself, you believe it’s over and it’s too late. I have heard it said far too many times, “The world belongs to the young people.” If that were the case, where does that leave all the breadwinners in the house?

Yet, our own culture reinforces the argument. Yes, it’s against the law to ask someone’s age on an employment application, but no one past 45 should fool themselves: younger applicants have a better chance of getting the job than the ones who are paying most of the taxes. Even in my own vocation, most churches prefer young “dynamic” ministers than those who have weathered many a storm and can help others do the same.

So, it’s a tough thing to overcome, but we’ve got to do it: your season of great joyful living and wonderful participation in life may be just around the corner. And you may be 50, 60, 70 or even 80 years old. It’s like trick or treat. The world’s trick on you is to make you believe the fat lady has sung and it’s over. The treat you can give yourself is to believe maybe there is no such thing as a fat lady and life’s greatest and most thrilling moments are on the horizon facing east.

History makes the argument against age. Abraham did not come into his season until he was past 80. Moses made his mark that reserved him not a few chapters in the Bible as what we would call today a senior citizen.

Grandma Moses, a renowned folk artist who died in 1961, did not begin painting until she reached her seventies. Ronald Reagan entered his truly significant season of life as President of the United States and he was 70 years old or should I say, 70 years prime.

Don’t know exactly why but we have set an age that shelves people from further participation and exhilaration in life. Maybe it’s that 65 mark when Social Security benefits kick in full force. Maybe it’s the wrinkles of the skin and the pain of the joints.

But just let me say one thing I believe with all my heart and is verified throughout God’s dealings with people: the most very favorite season of your life may just be beginning. Enjoy!

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